


someday believers

by hrtbnr (kiden)



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Fake Chop, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/hrtbnr
Summary: "It’s like this sometimes, when he’s close to the bottom of a bottle.  That’s how the ghosts slip in. Once in a while, Aleks invites them. They’ve all hurt a lot of people but nothing will ever come close to the way Aleks can hurt himself.  Nothing any of them have ever done has been as vicious."this is rated mature for themes my dudes.





	someday believers

**Author's Note:**

> look this is pretty dark. i mean, not the darkest. but it's unhappy and possibly (?) triggering idk man. i wasn't even sure i wanted to post it. but here it is. it's make me cry monday.

It would be easy to be angry with Aleks. Angry that he’s being fucking _belligerent_ , drunk and picking fights with Brett and Lindsey at three o’clock in the morning, and, according to both of them, hand continually moving to his waist in search of a gun that isn’t there, looking to do something with it.  Either of them could knock Aleks out if they wanted to, but Brett says over the phone that there’s something in Aleks’ voice that’s stopping them. It’s not just his hands that are trembling. He’s angry, but it’s turned inward towards something they can’t see.

So Brett called James, because cleaning up each other’s messes is what they’ve always done. And it’s James that Aleks yelled for, _where the fuck is James?,_ so loud he could hear his voice even though Brett seemed to have stepped into the office.

It would be easy to be angry with Aleks, but by the time James makes it to the warehouse Brett’s standing by the kitchenette, hand around his own throat like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.  And Lindsey is on the couch with Aleks, letting him curl into her, a mostly empty bottle of vodka between them. He’s still held together, but loosely; there are pieces of him strewn across the warehouse James can see in the flipped tables and broken glass.

It’s like this sometimes, when he’s close to the bottom of a bottle.  That’s how the ghosts slip in. Once in a while, Aleks invites them. They’ve all hurt a lot of people but nothing will ever come close to the way Aleks can hurt himself.  Nothing any of them have ever done has been as vicious.

“It’s okay,” he says, and Lindsey pats Aleks’ cheek, just for a moment, before leaving him alone on the couch.  

She doesn’t say anything to James as she passes, and neither her nor Brett ask if they’ll be okay before they leave.  They don’t even say goodbye.

This has been coming for a while and even after all these years James still doesn’t know how to stop it before it arrives.  One day Aleks will start spinning, faster and faster. He falls deeper into the booze and the drugs and the violence, keeps going, pushes himself in further, pulls away, and then breaks and falls.

His eyes skip over James and to the crates in the opposite corner where they keep the weapons.  There’s still a fire in his eyes but it’s dim, the last of something, weak flames that reach up, desperate for a little more air, gasoline, or waiting for someone to smother it dead.

“You can’t be here,” he whines, and Brett was right - his voice cracks around every word.  Shaking like a machine going to fly apart if it keeps running.

“You asked for me,” James says.  He kneels in front of him, hands up and open, as if to show he’s safe, or available if Aleks needs to fall into them. “Dipshit.”

“I can’t do this in front of James,” Aleks says as he crawls to the other side of the couch. “Not in front of James.  Please leave, dude. Please go back home.”

“I can’t do that,” James catches him by his hips and falls onto the couch as he pulls Aleks back from his scramble away.  Towards the crates, probably. Towards the guns. “Come here with me.”

This is why he calls for James.  Why it can’t be Brett or Lindsey or anyone else in their crew.  It has to be James, and Aleks knows that as well as the rest of the them do.  The thing he wants to do to himself, Aleks will never do it in front of James. 

Because he loves him.  Because he knows, somewhere in that fucked up, closed up heart of his, that James loves him back.  He just only believes it when he’s right at the edge. Can only trust it when he needs James to save him.

The first time this happened Aleks was strung out, more out of his head than in it, and James watched, frozen for the first time in his life, as Aleks pressed a loaded gun right above his left eye.  He begged then too. Begged for James to go away. To leave. To _let him._  Even when Aleks started crying he couldn’t move.  Couldn’t get to him. So he just stayed and said, a thousand times maybe, _no. No no no._ Stayed until Aleks fell asleep and he could get his gun, unload and dismantle it and toss it, even though Aleks had plenty to take its place.  

“Come here with me,” James says again, and Aleks does.  It’s the least resistance he’s ever put up. He falls back against him, still turned away, but doesn’t fight when James wraps both his arms around him.

He’s not enough for this.  Just being there is what stops Aleks, but James isn’t _enough._ Doesn’t know how to fix it, has no idea what he needs to give Aleks to help him fight it.  

Aleks isn’t small but he feels like he is when James holds him.  He’s not weak but he feels fragile.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” James asks, knowing full well Aleks won’t answer him. He never does.

But this time he says, “My apartment is empty and my bed is fucking empty and I lie - I lie awake in it, every night, every fucking night, and I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m even alive anymore.”

 _To be with me,_ James thinks.  He can’t say that though.  Because it’s ugly and selfish and he can’t ask Aleks to want to keep living just because James needs him.  It would be easy if things this complicated were like that. If you could love someone enough to chase away all the bad things, actions and thoughts and regrets and a past that doesn’t stop happening, even as Aleks tries to forget.

Not for the first time, James thinks, _we could walk away from this._ They don’t need Fake Chop.  They don’t need to be criminals.  They don’t need anything, anymore, and no one would stop them from leaving. James was always good with money, and he could get Aleks out of fucking Los Santos and bring him to places where he could catch his fucking breath for once.  Back to where they could actually see the stars at night, where people are kind of shitty but okay for the most part. Where they could remember that the life they live now isn’t _living_. Somewhere safe and James could just -

They could just _be in love._ And it would be simple, if they really tried.

“I can’t do anything right,” Aleks says eventually. “I’m so tired, James. I’m - I’ve never done anything good, not once, not in my entire fucking life.  How’s anyone supposed to live with that?” He shudders and James holds him tighter and his eyes are wet but he presses his face to the back of Aleks’ neck anyway. “How can I live with myself.”

It’s _selfish_ of James, and he knows it, but he keeps one arm around Aleks’ middle and brings the other up to bury in his hair, threading his fingers softly through the blond.

It’s selfish, but he says, “Remember how angry I used to be? When we first met, dude, do you remember?”

Aleks doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even nod. But James knows he remembers.  That Aleks remembers him as clearly as he remembers Aleks; skinny and awkward with too much hair and eyes so _bright_ they could start fires.

“I wanted to die,” James says bluntly, because it’s the only way he can say it. “I’d never - I wouldn’t do it myself. But I didn’t care. I didn’t have anything. If I died on a job that woulda been just as okay as _not._ I didn’t think to expect anything better or more than the shit life I already had.”

He’s still quiet but James can feel him shaking from the inside, the kind that starts in your chest and moves out to your shoulders, and he’s sure, suddenly, he’s the only thing in the world that’s keeping Aleks together.  

There’s a moment, and then another, and James knows Aleks can feel the way he’s crying, just a little, against his neck.

“And then you were there and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from falling in love with you. I fucking tried, man. I knew it was a bad idea.  But I ain’t ever felt anything like that before and you were - you _are_ the best and most important thing that’s ever happened to me.  And if you really wanna do this, if you want to fucking kill yourself, you can shoot me first.  You don’t get to go without me, Aleksandr, because I ain’t leaving you behind or letting you go alone.”

“You _can’t_ ,” Aleks says, and his voice is wet and small.

“Then you come home with me now, and fucking stay, and we figure out how to fix this in the morning.  Because this can’t keep happening. It doesn’t have to keep going like this, dude. _You can’t._ ”

James moves his hand from Aleks’ hair to his forehead, bringing him closer to speak against the warm, soft place where his shoulder begins. He whispers, “I’m still gonna love you in the morning, Aleks.”

“I’m so _sorry_ , James.  I’m sorry I’m fucked up.”

“You’re still here,” James says.  “There’s nothing you have to feel sorry about. You asked for me.”

Aleks moves away from him then but it’s only to turn around in James’ arms.  There’s never been a face James loved _more_ ; his bright eyes, the shape of his nose, the curves of his lips and jaw, all the places he’s wanted to press his own mouth to. Skin he’s wanted to taste. The line of Aleks’ throat, kissing there to discover what noises he could coax out of him.

Cupping his cheek, James says, “Come home with me, baby.  It can be _easy_. I promise. It’ll be hard but we can make it easy.”

Aleks takes James hand with no hesitation, and nods.  


End file.
